My Story of Survival
by His Wolfette
Summary: Each survivor of the Zombie Apocalypse has a story. This is the story of Caryn, how she survived, what happened to her, and how she met the man that would be her strength, Daryl Dixon.
1. Chapter 1

It's got to be the worst day of my life. Not only did I get called into work on my day off, I kicked my boyfriend out last night. Cheat on my once, shame on you; cheat on my twice, feel lucky you're not dead. Work wouldn't be so bad, but I'd just gotten off of working 24 hours straight. The hospital's nursing staff had been running with minimal nurses, everyone seems to be coming down with the flu or something. Luckily for me, I don't tend to get sick very easily. Unluckily for me, it usually means I get to work a ton of extra hours when everyone else does. Oh well…

I only got the call about five minutes ago to go in to work. I've still got to shower, find some clean scrubs, and hopefully find something to eat for breakfast. I look over at the clock on my nightstand. Only 3:17 AM. Damn, it's gonna be a long day. I sit up, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. I look over my shoulder at the empty side where Rob should have been. I have a single thought going through my head, "Fucking bastard." You'd think I would have been a bit more upset at the situation. Yeah, he cheated on my again, with my best friend, again, but really, the only thing I can feel is relief that I kicked him out rather than leave myself. I didn't do anything wrong, he did. I'd left bad relationships before, lost everything in the process, but not this time.

I finally manage to convince myself to stand up and get moving. I head into my bathroom, turn on the shower, nice and hot. I strip off my nightshirt and throw it in the corner of the bathroom with all my other dirty clothes. Staring at myself in the mirror, I can't help but inspect my body. Was I that ugly, cold, and selfish that men just couldn't wait to get away? I turn and step into the shower, the shock of the hot water making me inhale deeply, my skin instantly turning red. I reach for the knob, and adjust it just a bit, making the temperature a bit more tolerable. Turning my back to the spray, I begin to wash my hair and my body. After quickly shaving my legs, no cuts!, I shut the water off and step out of the shower. No time for pleasantries, Robin said she needed me quickly, some sort of emergency. I avoid looking in the mirror again, luckily the steam has it all fogged up. I brush my teeth, deciding to air dry. Hell, I'm just too lazy to look for a towel at the moment.

I turn away from the mirror, picking up my comb, and attempt at combing out the knots. Not an easy task, but quickly managed. Throwing the comb back on the counter, I walk out of the bathroom, wet foot prints trailing behind me. I walk over to my dresser and pull out some panties, a bra, and some socks. I put these on, and walk over to my closet and rip the closest pair of scrubs off their hanger.

-Police sirens outside.

I turn towards the bedroom window and see the police lights flashing by quickly. I step into my pants and pull my shirt over my head, adjusting it to sit better as I pad over to the window. Pulling aside the curtains, I see a lot of my neighbors out in their yards, talking to each other over fences and across the street. I can't make out their words, just the sounds. For my neighbors to have actually stepped out of their houses and talk to each other, something big must have happened. These people are the sort to protect themselves by sitting their asses on their couches and turning up their television's volume settings. I don't really have time to think about this now, so I turn away from the window, grab my bag and keys, and head out the door. Oh wait, I run back inside and grab my phone off the charger and an apple. I make quick work of the apple, throwing the core in the trash on my way out to the car.

My car is parked in the driveway next to the house. It definitely isn't the best car, but it will get me where I need to go. It's about eleven years old, but with all of my road trips to the coast, mileage is gonna do it in. A big, green Grand Marquis, I call her The Green Monster. Before I can open my door, though, I look up and see some of the neighbors staring at me.

"Where're you going?" #1024 asked. I never took the time to know their names.

"I got called in to work." I reply with my normal attitude. I mean damn, I have on scrubs, I must be going to the movies, right?

She looked at me like I was completely insane, but didn't say anything else. I lifted an eyebrow, cocked my head to the side, opened the car door, and climbed inside. I inserted the key into the ignition and turned my baby on. Looking back to check the driveway, I put The Green Monster in reverse and took off. I had to slam on my brakes as a police car came tearing down the street. My heart in my throat, I had to take a moment and collect myself. What the hell is going on? I guess sometimes it pays to listen to the news or radio, but….it's always so depressing. I check both directions in the street, and continue backing out of my driveway. Then I put the car in drive and head towards the hospital.

I only live about three miles from the hospital, and it normally only takes me about five minutes to get there, with getting stopped at the one red light between there and home. Tonight, however, was already heading in the wrong direction. Every time I came to an intersection, there was a cop car roaring around the corner or an ambulance heading somewhere fast. After twenty minutes, I finally pulled into the employee parking lot, into a free space, of which there were more than usual, and shut the car off.

Deep breath, and into the chaos….


	2. Chapter 2

I walked into the ER, taken aback by the sheer amount of people that were crammed in the waiting room. Every chair was full; people were sitting on the floor, standing in the corner, finding any available space and filling it. Seeing this, I quickly slipped into the locker room, dumped my stuff in my locker, grabbed my name badge, and headed out to the nurse's station.

There were a few nurses standing around the nurse's station. They were whispering to each other, frantically looking around, but not doing anything really helpful. I picked up a clipboard to take with me to the waiting room, I had to start somewhere. Robin came walking over towards us. Robin, the Head Nurse in the ER, was a woman to be reckoned with. She could do anything the docs could do, and still maintain her cool façade with the patients – something the docs would be wise to adopt. She had a pissed off look on her face, and immediately the other nurses took notice. We never wanted her mad at us, only bad things could happen then.

"What are you doing just standing around like this? We got patients that need help, and you're over here twiddling your thumbs!"

The nurses scattered, but before I could get away, she stopped me.

"I want you out there. " She indicated the waiting room, "Get the simple ones out and get the real cases in the ER STAT."

As quickly as that, she walked away, through the double doors that lead in the ER. I went straight out to the waiting room, with a Nurse's Cart, determined to stay below the radar. I definitely did not want Robin coming back out and jumping all over my case.

Thirty minutes later, I had treated and discharged several minor cases, simple bumps, scrapes, and bruises, nothing that couldn't be treated with an ibuprofen and some rest at home. A couple of severe cases, these people had severe fevers and pain all over their bodies that I couldn't attribute to any outward signs of injury. These people….These people worried me. I had them taken into beds in the ER right away.

People normally complain about waiting at the ER. Not anymore, I made sure of that. Within a couple of hours, my waiting room was almost empty, but now the ER was full. I had more people presenting with the fever, pain, and now bites? I couldn't figure it out. Bites?

I saw Robin coming over towards me in the waiting room. The look on her face scared me. Behind her, military personnel could be seen walking through the halls, carrying weapons. I had no idea what was going on, but whatever it was, it definitely couldn't be good. She pulled me over to a corner. She didn't say anything at first, looking behind her to make sure no one was within hearing distance. She eyed the soldiers walking the hallway towards the ER's doors. Turning back to me, she hesitated before speaking.

"Get your stuff. Get out."

"What?" What did I do?

"Please…you have to get out of here. Now. They're talking about quarantining the hospital. I need you to get to my family, tell them I'm ok." She was really freaking me out now.

"You go. We still got people here," I looked at the people still sitting in the seats on the other side of the waiting room.

"I can't; I've already talked to the military personnel. They'll notice if I'm gone. Please, just go."

The sound of her voice, the look in her eyes. I decided not to take any chances. I nodded to her, and made my way back to the locker room. She stayed in the waiting room, picking up where I had left off. I wondered if anyone would notice I had left, but didn't bother voicing my concerns. Dropping my name badge on the bottom of my locker, I grabbed my bag and keys. Turned back to the door of the locker room, I saw a man in fatigues standing on the other side, his back to me. He wasn't moving, just standing there. Shit. I could see Robin out in the waiting room, she obviously saw the soldier there. Her face betrayed her concern, but I gave her the thumbs up through the window. She turned away, I didn't know if she had seen me or not, but at the moment, I didn't bother waiting to make sure. In the corner of the locker room was a door that led to the ambulance bay. No one really ever used it, you could get easily run over by an ambulance coming or going. I took my chances and ducked out the door.

Fortune was in my favor this morning, I got out. No one saw me. I took off towards employee parking, and jumped in my car. I sat there a few seconds, thinking it was too easy for that to have happened. Then I noticed the military vehicles coming into the hospital lot, filling up the ER unloading zone. The Humvees, jeeps, and trucks filled up the entire area. Men jumped out and began entering the building. They had on gas masks and were carrying what looked like machine guns. I didn't waste any more time. I started the engine, peeled out of my parking space, and headed towards Robin's house.

The only thought running through my mind: What the hell is going on?


	3. Chapter 3

Robin's house was about a half hour away from the hospital on the freeway. I pulled up outside, got out of my car, and walked up to the front door. Her husband Jake pulled open the door before I had even made it up the steps.

"Where's Robin?"

I looked up at him, shaking my head, "She said she had to stay. She sent me to tell you she's okay."

"Fuck that! Do you even know what the hell is going on over there?"

He grabbed my arm, dragging me inside, to the living room. The giant television was on, the news was on, and the anchorwoman was talking about the hospital. Apparently, there was some kind of outbreak. People had been pouring into not only my hospital, but those of the entire city. The military had stepped in, quarantining everything. No official reports were being released, but the typical crazies were being interviewed. They were claiming a conspiracy of some sort, military overstepping their bounds. Someone even suggested the idea that the dead were coming back to life and biting people. Really? Like that would EVER happen!

I looked at Jake, "They're not serious are they?"

He shook his head. A second later, "They started an hour ago. I've heard choppers overhead, sirens everywhere. I have no idea. Please say that Robin will be coming home."

"Of course! She said she would, she never lies."

Honestly, at this point I had no idea what the hell to think about any of it. I hadn't witnessed any of this stuff being reported. I knew people had come in with fevers, pain, and eventually bites. But to think that people were dying, and coming back was entirely too much.

Robin's son, Tyler came out to the living room. He was carrying his blanket and pillow. I assumed he was getting ready to watch cartoons, but Jake saw him, and led him to the kitchen. Looking back at me, Jake inclined his head, inviting me to follow. I didn't really want to, but some sort of obligation to Robin made me go. In the kitchen, Tyler sat himself at the breakfast bar overlooking the stove. Not knowing what else to do, I sat down next to him.

Jake pulled out a large frying pan, some pancake mix, and went to business prepping everything; I looked at him questioningly. Pancakes? Seriously? I hadn't had pancakes since the last time I went home to my parents' house. Jake saw the look on my face and laughed to himself.

"It's a family tradition. Any time not-so-great things happen, pancakes make it better."

Tyler just grinned, "Yup, pancakes make everything better! My nana always said as long as there are pancakes, the world is still a good place to be."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at this; he was a kid after all. So, I just smiled and took it for what it was, a free meal. I'm not a horrible person, but I definitely won't turn down free food. Within just a few minutes, Jake had two plates filled with some pancakes, and he was still making more. Tyler jumped up, grabbing the maple syrup from the cupboard and butter from the refrigerator. While Tyler was walking around the kitchen, I heard the Emergency Alert sound on the television in the living room. I looked at Jake, seeing the concern in his face.

"I'll go check it out, keep cooking." I looked over at Tyler, he was being an airplane.

Jake caught the look, nodded his head in agreement, and started to chase the boy around. I walked out to the living room, listening to the anchorwoman and trying to read the crawl across the bottom of the screen. We were being told to stay in our homes, lock our doors and windows, and to not open our doors for anyone. They emphasized the Anyone. I was beginning to feel that same nervousness that had flirted with me at the hospital. Things were starting to get real scary. The video on the screen showed officers barricading the entrances to hospitals. I wished to hell I knew what was going on. I hoped Robin would try to call us, but I tried not to get my hopes up in case she didn't.

I walked back to the kitchen, saw Jake and Tyler sitting at the bar, slathering butter over their pancakes and drowning them in syrup. I couldn't help but to watch, the scene was such a happy one, completely different from what I had just watched. Jake looked over at me, I could see in his eyes how concerned he was for Robin. I shook my head.

"We're being told to stay inside and eat our pancakes."

Jake almost said something, but stopped himself. I guess he kind of got my message.

Tyler jumped for joy, "Pancakes forever!"

Jake leaned over, kissing the top of his son's head before looking back at me. I mouthed the words, "It's bad." He nodded, looking out the window before turning his attention back to present. He reached over, pulled out the third stool, and pointed at it.

"Sit. Pancakes are getting cold."

The tone in his voice reminded me of Robin. Now, I was really scared. Tyler didn't notice any of this; he was enthralled with his syrupy goodness. I walked over, sat down, picked up my fork, and started to eat. My appetite had completely left me, but I felt the need to placate the kid. Tyler was dancing in his chair, singing, "Pancakes!" over and over again. It was kind of cute.

"That's right," I said. "As long as there are pancakes, everything's alright."


	4. Chapter 4

I stayed with Jake and Tyler for most of the day. I kept thinking Robin had so show up soon. Hours with no word from her, the news reports were getting more bizarre every minute. They were telling us of horrific events. Police were shooting people that seemed to be coming back from the dead. These people would bite and scratch, devouring others. Jake kept Tyler away from the television, which was a smart idea. Tyler spent most of the day coloring, drawing, playing games. Jake tried to stay with him as much as possible, but I could tell he was worried about his wife. He kept coming into the living room, checking the broadcasts, checking his cell phone for missed calls and texts. Nothing. I was worrying, too. Robin and I weren't exactly friends, but we got along for the most part. I had no idea what was going on at the hospital now, I'd give anything to be there right now. I hate waiting,

Jake's cell phone rang. He came running into the room, answering it within three rings.

A one –sided conversation always sucks.

*Yeah, I'm here. Where are you?"

"Fuck that shit, you need to come home. Tyler needs you. I need you."

"Yeah, I know."

"Yeah, we had pancakes." Nervous laughter.

"She's still here."

"Just a sec."

He handed me the cell phone. "Robin?"

"Caryn, I need you to take care of Jake and Tyler. I don't think I'm getting out of here."

"What? What do you mean?"

I heard noises on the other end of the line. It sounded like Robin was running or something. She came back on the line, whispering to me.

"They're killing people here. They're just lining them up and shooting them!"

I couldn't believe what she said, "Who? Why? What the hell is going on?"

"These people – there's something _wrong _with them. No one knows what it is. The military – they just started to shoot them all! Oh god! I don't know what to do!"

"Calm down, Robin. Get out of there; use the back exit from the locker room."

"It's blocked off, sealed. The locker room's got soldiers in it. Whatever happens, take care of my guys. If Tyler gets scared, just bring out the pancakes. His nana got him hooked on them."

"I've heard. Pancakes. I promise, I'll take care of them."

"Thank you, Car—Oh shit!"

Gun shots, then silence. I looked at the phone. The call had disconnected. Jake was standing right there, confusion clearly written on his face. I looked up at him, holding the phone out.

"The line went dead."

I didn't know what else to say. He looked at me like I was an alien. He took the phone from me and immediately tried to call Robin back. After several attempts, Jake threw the phone across the room. It shattered against the wall of the living room. He turned to me, shook his head, and left the room. I heard him going up the steps to Tyler. Muffled sounds told me he went back to playing with the boy.

I stood there. I had no idea what to do. The television droned on behind me. I stared at the pieces of the cell phone. Could she be? Why would they? Unfinished thoughts raced through my mind. I couldn't pull any of them together into a cohesive idea. The only things that struck me as the thing to do was walk into the kitchen and inventory how much pancake stuff was there. Tyler would need his pancakes as much as possible. So, that's what I did.

Sometime later, Jake and Tyler came into the kitchen while I was going through the pantry. I don't know how long they watched me, but when Tyler finally said something, I jumped. Tyler laughed at me. I couldn't do anything but laugh with him.

"I'm taking Tyler outside, in back. I can't keep him inside forever."

"But the television says to stay inside."

"I can't keep him inside forever."

With that, Jake and Tyler turned around, and headed out the back door.

Within minutes, I heard Tyler screaming. Shortly thereafter, Jake came running in through the back door, carrying Tyler. Tyler was crying, holding his arm. I ran to the door, shutting and locking it just as someone came walking up to it. I had no idea who it was, but whoever it was didn't look so healthy. He had blood running down his chin and his eyes were all messed up.

"Who the fuck is this?" I asked Jake.

"I don't fuckin' know. He just bit Tyler!"

I turned to look at Jake and Tyler. Tyler was sitting on the counter, holding his arm while Jake was grabbing dish towels and trying to wrap them around Tyler's arm. There was a gaping wound on Tyler's left arm. He was right; it looked like a giant bite mark. Bite. My mind immediately flashed to the few patients that had come in the ER before I left. They had been bitten, too. I had a horrible feeling.

"Tyler," I said, trying to distract him. "Would you like to have pancakes again?"

At first he didn't react to me, the tears flowing down his face, whimpering to his dad.

"Uh huh," came his short reply.

I immediately began making a batch of pancakes; I didn't know what else to do. Jake was holding on to Tyler. Tyler was shaking. I didn't know if it was from pain, fear, or a combination of the two. Whatever it was, he relaxed a bit when the first couple of pancakes came out of the pan. I gave these to him on a small plate. Jake grabbed him some butter and syrup. The two of them moved over to the kitchen table, and Tyler dug into the pancakes. He brightened up almost immediately, but I could tell something was wrong. He was flushed, and the bite was bright red around the edges of the dish towels. I was very worried. The though kept flitting along the edges of my memory that bites were not a good thing, they meant something terrible was about to happen.

Tyler finished his pancakes as I finished making the rest of the batch of them. Jake and I weren't exactly hungry at this point, but we went through the motions. The pancakes sat like lead in the pit of my stomach, but I put a smile on my face for Tyler. The flush he had worn earlier had turned into a full blown fever within a half hour. Jake took him to bed, giving him some ibuprofen to try and break the fever. Neither one of us wanted to risk going outside again. Upstairs, I could hear Tyler whimpering while Jake tried to stoically read him a bedtime story. I couldn't pay attention to it, though. I was distracted by the people that were walking the streets.

They weren't moving right. They seemed to be stumbling, shambling along in a random pattern through the streets and even people's yards. The curtains were closed; none of them could see in, I kept looking through the slits of the curtains. I didn't know what to make of it.

I heard some sounds from upstairs that sounded like Tyler was getting up and playing in his room. Then I heard Jake let out a grunt and tell Tyler not to bite. Then I heard more sounds, like a struggle taking place upstairs. I was frozen in place; I couldn't figure out what to do or if I should call out. I just stood there. After a couple of minutes, I didn't hear Jake anymore. It had gone awfully silent. The only noise at this point was the television spewing the same information over and over. Stay inside. Don't let anyone inside.

Then I heard it. The sounds of someone coming down the stairs, it was slow, the sounds not coming from someone very heavy. Immediately, I knew it was Tyler coming down. I walked to the hallway to meet him at the bottom, but when I got there, it wasn't Tyler. Not exactly, anyway. His skin had a ghostly sheen to it, like the skin of dead person, and he was coated in blood. Instinctively, I knew it was Jake's blood. I couldn't tell you why, I just knew.

Tyler let out a growl. A growl? I didn't know what to make of it until he damn near threw himself at me. The look on his face made me dodge him. He stretched out his arms towards me, but again, I dodged. I couldn't tell you why, I just knew I had to stay away. The sounds he was making sounded like a rabid dog. It scared me. I somehow managed to dance my way behind him. I grabbed ahold of him, but he struggled to turn to me. He was snapping, trying to bite at me. He snaked his arms around, I avoided those simply by able to squirm around them. I didn't know what to do so I dragged him to the couch. He kept snapping at me.

"Tyler, calm down!"

He wouldn't talk. Wouldn't? Or, couldn't? My mind was racing, trying to figure out what to do with him. Before I got to the couch, he moved and threw me off balance. I tripped, with him underneath me and fell to the floor. His head was impaled on a statue of a dog next to the couch. The tail of the dog went in through his eye and out the back of his head. It barely missed me as I rolled to the side. Tyler went still. I just stared at his lifeless body. I was so shocked, I couldn't even cry out in anguish, fear, or any other emotion at that.

I slowly got to my feet, staring at Tyler. My mind snapped to, and I turned to run upstairs and find Jake. I had no idea what I was going to tell him, but I had to get him.


	5. Chapter 5

When I got to the top of the stairs, I saw Jake. He was lying face down on the rug in Tyler's room. The position of his body told me something bad had happened. I put one foot in front of the other, making myself walk towards him. I stood over the body. Jake's stomach had been ripped open, his intestines spilled on the carpet. It didn't occur to me just then, but later it would. The rip in the guts was the same height as Tyler.

I didn't immediately know what to do. Jake was lying there, dead. I had just killed Tyler. A child! I killed a child! The gorge rose in my throat and I threw up all over Tyler's bedroom floor. I collapsed right there, narrowly avoiding my own mess while trying not to get too close to Jake's body.

I was stuck in that position, on all fours, vomiting everything up. Tears flowed from my eyes. I was so confused, scared. I didn't know what to do. When there wasn't anything left to come up, I sat back on my haunches, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. I couldn't help but look at Jake's back. I knew I had seen worse things than this in the ER, but this was different. I knew Jake. Hell, I'd just had a meal with him! I thought of Tyler downstairs. Tyler, the bright, lively little boy who had shared his pancakes with me, who was just a normal kid and I had killed him! I started crying, hanging my head in my hands. I couldn't make any sense of this. I decided I needed to move, to get away from this awful mess. I crawled on my hands and knees, not trusting my legs to carry my weight. The house was silent, except for the television downstairs. The voices on it droned on in the background, unintelligently. I was just crawling through the door when something grabbed my foot.

Fear gripped me immediately. I looked back over my shoulder. Jake was moving! He had a hold of my shoe, trying to pull me closer to him.

"Jake?"

I couldn't believe it, this was a fucking miracle! He was still alive. A fraction of a second later, Jake tried to bite my foot. I grunted, trying to kick him away but he didn't let go of me.

"Jake! Let me go! What the hell is wrong with you!"

He didn't say anything. He made guttural noises that just didn't sound right. He sounded like he had the worst sinus infection in the world. I kept kicking at him, his hand, his face, trying to get away. My shoe slipped off into his hand, and I quickly crawled away. I got to the head of the stairs, getting ready to head down when Jake was on me again. Damn, he moved fast! He had left a trail of blood and intestines behind him. I kicked at him, kicked and kicked and kicked. He was trying to bite me! Kicking with my foot that still had a shoe on, I landed a really good kick to his head. I heard the awful crunching noise as his face caved in from the force of it. My adrenaline was pumping; I kept kicking until his head was a bloody mess. He didn't move any more.

I forgot where I was. I started backing up from the body, only to find myself falling backwards down the stairs. Everything went by in a blur, my mind not comprehending what was happening until it was too late. I tried to grab on the banister to stop myself, but my reflexes were all jumbled up.

I must have hit my head at some point during the fall. I woke up in the dark. No lights were on, but the television was still going. It was the only light I could see by. I could see the form of Tyler still by the couch in the living room. I was dazed, I rolled over, getting up on my hands and knees, shaking, trying to clear my head of the fog.

I crawled over to the doorway, using the wall to help myself stand up. Everything hurt, but I was pretty sure nothing was broken. I had a headache from hell, but I'd get over that. Memories came flooding in of what had happened earlier. I was in shock. I had just killed two people! I had to call 911. I was self-defense, wasn't it? I spotted the phone on the wall in the kitchen, unsteadily made my way towards it.

I dialed 911.

Busy signal.

I looked at the phone, not believing what I was hearing. How do you call 911 and get a busy signal?

I hung the phone up, picked it back up and hit Redial. Still a busy signal. Out of frustration, I slammed the receiver down. I kept slamming it down until the phone broke in my hands. I stared at the phone. I wasn't able to compute all this. I needed someone to tell me what was going on.

I walked back out to the living room, my strength slowly coming back to me. I stared at Tyler's body. I had to force myself to walk to the television. I watched the news report that was on. It seemed to be a repeat of the morning and afternoon reports. Previously fucking recorded.

It stayed that way. Between the recordings of the news and the stupid commercials blaring across the screen, I was going crazy. I needed to know what was happening!

I stalked back into the kitchen, going through the drawers, looking for a radio. A weather radio, whatever. Emergency broadcasts had to be going on. I found it in the bottom drawer next to the refrigerator. I turned it on, hearing the loud buzzing before the broadcast started. It was a local alert system, saying to get to the local schools, shelters had been set up with food, water, and such.

Shelters?

How long had I been out? It only felt like a few hours, at most.

I looked around. I didn't want to go to a shelter. My only thought was to get to my family. It'd be a long drive, but I'd rather be there. The only problem is my piece of shit car would never make it. Jake drove a big truck. The keys were hanging on the holder by the garage door. Would it be stealing? Jake was dead. Tyler was dead. As far as I knew, Robin was dead, too.

Screw it. But I needed to take supplies with me. My mind told me I needed to prepare for whatever lay between me and my family. I ran to the closet by the front door, making the mistake of looking through the curtains out towards the street. There were people moving around. They didn't move normally, they seemed to more or less stumble along. Their movements weren't right. It gave me a very creepy feeling, the hairs on the back of my neck standing up.

I opened the closet door, tearing my eyes away from the scene outside. Luckily, there were some large suitcases there. I grabbed two, and headed back to the kitchen. I grabbed food out of the pantry. I grabbed all the pancake mix and syrup I could find. Tyler's stories of pancakes stayed with me. I kept thinking to myself: More pancakes. Everything will be fine if I have more pancakes.

The thoughts kept repeating through my mind as I cleared the shelves into the suitcases. Leaving the suitcases in the kitchen by the garage door, I went back upstairs. I steeled myself for the sight of Jake's body, stepping over it. I walked to Jake and Robin's bedroom, headed for their dresser. Robin's t-shirts and jeans would work for me, we were roughly the same size. I grabbed what I could, stopping to pick up some hiking boots sitting in the corner. I headed back downstairs, shoved the clothes and shoes in the remaining space in the suitcases, and closed them up.

I grabbed the keys to Jake's truck, wheeled the suitcases into the garage, tossing them in the bed of the truck. I looked around the garage, the thought to protect myself taking over. Jake and Tyler had both come at me with all their might. Whatever had been wrong with them could be what was wrong with all those people outside. There was a hammer hanging on the wall. I grabbed it, along with the monkey wrench sitting on the work table. I tossed them into the cab of the truck, looking around for anything else useful. The garage door was closed, I checked to make sure the opener was in the truck. Luck was on my side, it was stuck to the dash of the truck.

I couldn't think of anything else I needed. Everything would be there when I reached my parents' house. I just knew it. My head was screaming to me. I jogged back into the house, up the stairs to Robin and Jake's bathroom. I raided the medicine cabinet. Grabbing a towel, dumping everything in the center of it – aspirin, band aids, alcohol, there were some antibiotics, too. I wrapped the towel up, slung it over my shoulder and dashed back to the truck. This I kept with me in the cab of the truck, just to save myself the time.

I jumped in the truck, turned the ignition. The engine roared to life. I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw that the truck was an automatic. I never did learn how to drive a stick. I hit the button for the garage door, and it slowly began its rise. It made an awful noise, muffled only by the fact that the windows on the truck were shut.

Looking in the rearview mirror, none of those people were in the driveway. I backed up into the street. I didn't see all the people stop their meandering. I didn't see them start their way towards the truck. I was paying attention to the road, trying not to hit them or the other cars on the sides of the street. I hit the brakes, put the truck in drive, only to be shocked by the people coming at me. I sat there. I didn't know what to do. I couldn't just hit them with the truck. They needed to move out of the way!

I honked the horn, but it didn't do the trick. If anything, it seemed to bring more of the people into the street. The first one started hitting the passenger window. I hit the auto-locks for the doors. I was not about to let one of the fuckers in the truck with me. I screamed from behind closed windows for them to move, but they just moved closer. Before I knew it, the truck was surrounded. The people were hitting the windows. They were acting strange. Their eyes were dead, like they weren't really seeing me or the truck. Their mouths were hanging open, black tongues and grey skin. Their behavior disturbed me. I did the only thing I could think of.

I closed my eyes and slammed down on the gas pedal.


	6. Chapter 6

I woke up screaming. I was still in the cab of the truck. I had pulled over at a rest stop to sleep, use the bathroom, and clean out the vending machines. At first, I couldn't remember how long I'd been there, but then it dawned on me. It couldn't have been more than a couple of hours. The sun had barely set and it was only about five o'clock or so when I'd stopped.

The dream. I kept seeing Tyler coming at me. Jake was there, too, but the focus seemed to be Tyler. He was just a kid and I had killed him. Then the others when I had first left their house. They surrounded me. I couldn't get away. They closed in on me until there was just darkness. That was where I woke up. Screaming. I don't know why I screamed; in my dream I was silent.

My thoughts turned to those people who had surrounded me in the truck. I had closed my eyes when I stomped on the gas pedal. I could feel the thuds against the truck and the feel the tires running bodies over. I looked back through the rearview mirror to see those that were on the ground were beginning to get back up, or were at least crawling away. One of them, it looked like the tires of the truck had smashed the head. That one wasn't moving. This was something I needed to think about, but later.

Now, at the rest stop, I had that time to think. There was nothing else to do but think. The radio stations had all cut off and were broadcasting the same emergency warnings. Head to Atlanta and the CDC or go to the military bases. I didn't pay them much attention. I knew where I needed to go. My parents' farm. It wasn't big, but it was secluded. Somehow that seemed like the thing to look for right now. Seclusion. My dad was a die-hard military man who always prepared for major crises. He had food stores, weapons, just about everything you'd need to survive a major catastrophe. I had always laughed at this, but now it looked like a godsend.

My only problem now seemed to be fuel. The truck apparently didn't get the best gas mileage and I was already down to a quarter of a tank. I couldn't remember what the last road sign had said about how far it was to the next gas station. I prayed it wasn't far. I had a distinct feeling going any distance on foot would be bad for my health.

I grabbed a can of Pepsi out of the pile of junk food on the floor of the passenger-side of the cab. I drank it down in three gulps. I needed the caffeine. I turned the key in the ignition and the truck roared to life. I looked in the rearview mirror to back up and saw someone stumbling toward me and the truck. I didn't hesitate this time, I aimed for her. The head popped off and went flying. I heard the head bounce off the roof the cab as I kept going back. Part of me felt the need to be sick at this, but I knew I couldn't afford that feeling anymore. It was a new world. End of the world? Maybe. I was still here, though, and I planned on keeping it like that.

I put the truck in drive and took off, headed to the next gas station. I kept checking the fuel gauge, hoping it'd be my friend and tell me not to worry, that I'd get there with no problem.

I made it to the gas station. Barely. I essentially coasted up to the gas pump. There weren't any cars here. I mean, NO cars. Not even the car for the person that should be working the registers. At first I was pissed. The truck was on empty and it looked like I would have to hoof it. I climbed out of the cab of the truck, slamming the door. I looked at the pump, reading all the decals.

"Thank the fucking lord!"

The pumps were automated, all I had to do was swipe my debit card. A nagging voice in the back of my head had a sneaking doubt that the system wasn't going to work and I'd be left out on the lurch. Regardless, I opened the door to grab my card out of my bag. I swiped the card in the magnetic reader and the pump beeped to life, authorizing the card and asking me to choose which fuel I wanted. I let out a breath I hadn't been aware I'd been holding and chose the cheapest. I laughed at myself, of all times to consider money!

I filled the tank, put the cap back on, and climbed back into the cab. Starting the ignition, I sat there a moment, watching the needle climb on the fuel gauge. I smiled as it hit the Full Line, put the gear in drive, and took off. I got back on the highway, and headed towards my parents' place.

I pulled up at the gate leading to my parents' property. The gate was closed and chained up. I put the truck in park, turned off the ignition, and climbed out. I was hoping that the padlock was open, but it wasn't.

"Damn it to hell!"

I looked around, looking for someone, anyone. No one around that I could see, so I climbed up and over the gate and walked on up the dirt road to the house.

I got about a hundred yards away from the front porch when I heard someone shout out for me to halt. I froze in place. I knew my dad. He was one of those kind that would shoot first and ask questions later.

"Dad?" I shouted.

Within a minute the front door flew open and my mom and dad came running out to me. My mom had tears streaking down her face and my dad wore a look of relief. It never failed; I broke down in tears myself at the sight of my mom, and ran into her arms. My dad crushed us both in one of his famous bear hugs. He didn't say a word, just grabbed both of us by the arm and dragged us back into the house, locking and barring the door behind us.

"Dad, I gotta truck out at the gate. There's food and stuff out there."

He nodded, and shouted for my brother Matt to come down from upstairs. For the first time ever, I was happy to hear that my brother Matt was in the same house as me. When he came down the stairs, I couldn't stop myself from running to him and hugging him, too. He hugged me back, no words were needed. The world had gone to hell and we were family. Despite our past differences, family was family. His wife, Jenn, was behind him on the stairs. I smiled up at her and she rushed to join our hug. The tears were flowing.

My Dad and Matt walked down to the truck and brought it back up to the house. Everyone pitched in to get it quickly unloaded and everything inside the house. Dad nodded in approval at what I had managed to pack into the truck in my haste to escape Robin's house. I felt the need to tell my Dad everything that had happened. Maybe he had some idea of what was going on. He always knew this sort of stuff.

At the moment however, I was learning that all my brothers and their families were here, not just Matt and Jenn. Steve, Meagan, and their kids; Kevin and his Jenn and their kids; and John and Heather. At first, this was the happiest I'd been since all this shit had started.

Dad broke the news, "Caryn, sweetie," he shook his head, "It ain't good. Kevin, Jenn, John, Meagan, even the kids got bit on their way here. Bites aren't good."

I was horrified. I knew for a fact that bites weren't good. Wasn't it a bite that had started everything with Tyler and Jake? I thought it had to be an extreme case of rabies. I wasn't certain, but that's what it felt like. It didn't explain the people moving after being run over by the truck, but my mind was happy to stay along this line of thinking.

"Dad, where are they?"

He told me he had them set up in the back part of the house. The addition that he had built that could essentially be shut off from the main part of the house by closing the giant steel curtain he had installed along the entrance. I never loved or hated my Dad so much as I did at that moment. He was already planning on the worst scenario.

My brother Steve made an appearance. He came from that back part of the house, the look on his face told me more than I wanted to know. He lived for his family and he was watching them slowly turn into something else. I walked over to him and hugged him, but he didn't return the hug. He was stiff, the life seemingly already drained from him. All the good feelings that had rushed over me when I first saw Mom and Dad quickly turned to ice as I realized no matter what, I was about to lose more than half of my family.


	7. Chapter 7

I couldn't stay in the house. As much as I know I needed to rest and try to sleep, I couldn't be there. Knowing what was happening to my family killed me. I had gone back and visited them. The fevers had set in, their coloring had changed. It was obvious to me, by now, what was happening. They were dying.

I grabbed a bottle of water and one of my dad's pistols and walked outside. He protested at first, but I don't think he really wanted me in the house anyway. He was always the one to push me away from bad things. That was his way of keeping me safe.

I didn't really have any idea where I was going to go. I just walked. I shoved the gun in my waistband, making sure the safety was on. It was dark and as quiet as it could be with the bugs buzzing away. I simply wandered. I didn't see the trees, the rocks, the branches, nothing. Tears streamed down my cheeks. It had to have been at least an hour of walking before I stopped.

I had come to a fallen patch of saplings. The soil must not have been stable enough for their root systems. For some odd reason, this struck me as funny. I fell to my knees, laughing like a crazy person. I couldn't stop myself. My emotions were too raw. By the time I stopped laughing, the tears had dried up, and I was completely worn out. I laid out on the grass and dirt, my knees curled into my chest, staring off at the saplings. I was so drained that I completely forgot the pistol on my back. I fell asleep. Not a good sleep, but one of those sleeps when you don't even realize you're really asleep.

I don't know how much later it was when I opened my eyes, but it was still dark. My eyes came open, the bugs had died away and it was eerily quiet. For a moment I almost forgot everything that had happened. Just a moment, though, before everything came rushing back to me. I didn't have tears to cry anymore. I didn't have any fear left, either. A strange acceptance had washed over me. Something told me I would do what needed to be done to make sure that I survived whatever this shit was. Fuck, if Dad could tolerate the death of his family under his own roof, so the hell could I. I just need to suck it up and deal with it. No tears allowed. No fear allowed. Man up, like Dad had always said.

I sat up, picking up the bottle of water that had fallen at my feet when I first got here. I drank greedily, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand before tossing the empty bottle into the dark. Something made me reach behind me. When my fingers brushed against the pistol, I finally remembered it was there. I pulled it out of my waistband; it was too dark to see it well. The pistol in my hand, I fingered the safety, making sure it was still on. Last thing I wanted to do was shoot my own ass. I made myself get up and I stuffed the pistol back into my waistband, in front this time, for easy access, I guess. I looked around, I'm not really sure for what, but I had that eerie feeling that something was out there watching me, waiting for me. Coming after me?

I'd lived here for so long that I knew these woods like the back of my hand. I turned and started making my way back to the house. Only now did I realize just how far I had walked. At the pace I was making myself keep, I was pretty tired and winded when I emerged from the trees and saw the lights of the house again. I could see Dad sitting in his rocker on the front porch. He seemed to be staring up the road, at what I couldn't tell from where I was, but the look on his face was not a good one. I recognized at least that much.

I walked up to the porch. I didn't bother with a fake smile or pleasantry. He didn't even move his eyes to acknowledge my presence, but he knew I was there.

"They're all dead."

I sank to my knees on the porch, beside him. I couldn't even cry. I knew it was going to happen; it was just a matter of time, really. I saw my Mom come out from the corner of my eye. Her eyes were swollen with tears; the front of her blouse was soaked with them. She just stared at me, not saying a word.

"The alarm went off, too."

He spoke the words like they were going to be his last. The tone of his voice, the lack of emotion in them, scared me most of all. At first, I didn't know what he was talking about. Then, I remembered. Years ago, he'd had a motion sensor system installed around the property's perimeter. The gate was the usual culprit for setting it off, but he also monitored the comings and goings of poachers on the land. For the alarm to go off, it meant that that someone or something had crossed the perimeter. My instinct said it had to have been an animal. Then I could hear them. I could smell them.

The stench of death wafted towards us on the breeze. Dad stood up, a look of resolution on his face. Mom came to stand by our sides for a moment before walking back inside. Dad followed her and I followed him. Inside, he'd already had his rifles and pistols set up and ready. He shouted for my other two brothers to get their asses to the front porch. I grabbed a rifle, the pistol forgotten in my waistband again. Dad, Mom, Matt, Steve, and I each had a rifle in our hands as we headed out to the porch in time to see a horde of them coming at us.

If it had been a scary movie, it would have been better. Unfortunately, it was real. They came around the vehicles, from all directions. There wasn't a moment of hesitation from any of us. We all started opening fire. Practiced shots, it wasn't difficult for us to pick off the people on the edge of the crowd. It didn't occur to me at the time that these were the people of the town, the neighboring farms; it was just clear that we needed to stop them. That whatever they were coming after us for was not something we wanted to give up. Later it would hit me, I was sure of it. That thought kept nagging at me as I fired the rifle.

It didn't take long to go through the rounds the rifles were loaded with. Mom and Dad ran inside to grab the cases of shells and bring them out, but Matt, Steve, and I knew we couldn't exactly wait. What few rounds we still had, we used as we stepped off the porch towards the horde of people. Before I realized it, though, Matt and Steve had pulled back to the house to reload. I was alone with the horde. There weren't many left. Head shots seemed to take them down pretty quick, but really, they would take down most people quickly. My vision was focused on the last few people stumbling about. I was out of rounds and resorted to using the butt of the rifle to smash in their faces when they came at me. They tried to grab me; if it weren't for my jean jacket, I was sure my arms would have been all scratched up. Exhausted from the fight, the last person down on the ground kept crawling after me. I really didn't know what else to do, so I stomped on her head. My boot went down hard, I could hear the awful crunch of bone, and then hear the squishy sound of her brain beneath my heel.

I looked around at the bodies all over the ground. Satisfied they were all down and not moving anymore, I took a deep breath and stumbled back towards the porch, using the rifle like a crutch. My energy was drained. I just wanted to crawl into a bed or onto the couch and sleep for the rest of my days. At the door I paused. I could smell that same smell inside. I didn't know what to do. My vision went dark, the lights inside nearly blinding me. In the chaos, I didn't decipher where some of the shots came from, apparently. From the doorway, I could see the bodies of my brothers, my sisters-in-law, and my nieces and nephews all sprawled along the floor. Their positions told me they had come out from the back of the house. Mom and Dad were standing there; Matt was sitting on the coffee table, staring off at the bodies. Steve was one of the bodies on the floor, but his wound appeared self-inflicted to me. My nursing training told me that. Common sense about where the gun was and the way he was positioned did, too.

I saw the scratches. Matt had one on his cheek and another going down his arm. Mom had a bite on her forearm. Dad seemed to be safe from both, but he had his arm around Mom like he wouldn't be able to go on without her. I saw the look on his face. He knew what was going to happen. They'd become whatever it was everyone else had. He looked me in the eyes then he moved his eyes to the pistol that had been poking out of my jeans. I followed his eyes with mine, and it dawned on me. I knew what he wanted me to do. My head snapped up, shaking it "No!" at him. The look in his eyes didn't accept my rejection. My heart died in that moment, knowing what I was about to do. I breathed heavily and I could feel the weight bearing down on my shoulders. There was no going back from this moment – this action.

My right hand raised itself to the grip of the pistol, pulling it free from my waistband. It was an automated response. No normal person would have even considered this. I wasn't normal anymore. There was no "normal" anymore. Of that, I was sure. With my index finger, I flicked the safety-switch off and slid my middle finger across the trigger. Dad stood there, resolute. Mom was cradling her bitten arm, staring at the bodies on the floor. Matt looked as if he could already be dead. He probably was, inside. His new bride was one of the ones on the floor. I didn't bother asking for forgiveness – from them, from God, from myself. I was tasked to do this and I would do it.

I aimed at Matt first. He was the closest to death from my vantage point and thus the first that needed to go.

Through his ear.

I looked at Mom and Dad. They weren't looking at me anymore. Was I the ghost and this was merely a nightmare? Either way. I aimed at Mom first. Dad would never want her to suffer through his death. I should have felt something. She was my mom.

Through her left eye socket.

Then, it was Dad's turn. Like a game. He stared at Mom down on the floor.

Through his forehead.

In all honesty, I held the gun to my temple. I pulled the trigger, but the bullet jammed in the barrel.

It was only then that I screamed. Not in fear, but in rage. Why would any higher power have let me kill my family and so many other people without letting me send myself to hell to pay for it? That's what I needed right? I needed to atone for what I had just done.

That was it. The bullet did go through my brain. This was purgatory. To be here and look at and tolerate the evil I had committed.


	8. Chapter 8

I opened my eyes and saw what I had done. I stared at the bodies. My parents, my brothers, and their families were lying about in a horrendous mess that only nightmares could be made of. There was blood, brain matter, bone fragments spewed across the floor onto the walls. I moved among the bodies, forcing myself to look at each one. I wanted them etched on my brain. I never wanted to forget.

I should have cried, but I couldn't.

I should have felt something, but I didn't.

I picked up all the rifles, the pistols, and ammunition and brought them out to the truck. I placed them in the bed of the truck, wrapped in a blanket. I walked back inside, to where dad had kept the food supplies. I grabbed a couple cases of water and lugged them out to the truck, stepping over the bodies as I went. Back inside, I grabbed cases of MREs and packed them up. My clothes were still in the truck and I had the keys in my hand, standing on the porch. I stared at the bodies surrounding the truck, thinking of the best way to get the truck out of the center of the pool of bodies.

"Fuck it."

I climbed in the truck, fired her up, slipped her into gear and stomped on the gas pedal. The truck crushed the bodies beneath its wheels as I moved forward. I spun the truck around and headed towards the gate. Stopping just short of where the gate should have been, the truck's headlights showed the gate had been forced off its hinges. More of those people were still pouring in, headed towards the truck, the lights seeming to attract them.


	9. Chapter 9

I sat in the truck, at a stop sign on an old country road intersection. I hadn't seen any cars or any more people walking about. I sat there, the engine idling, as I stared at the Chevy emblem on the steering wheel. My hands still gripped the wheel, my knuckles white. I wasn't thinking about anything, just seeing the images of my brothers, their families on the floor in my parents' house. I had just left them. I hadn't even taken the time to bury them. I didn't have time. I knew that deep down, but it still didn't sit right with me. I felt empty. I didn't feel anything, really. I was a robot at this point, just going. I looked over at the radio, and somehow willed myself to move my hand and turn it on.

The only thing that came across the airwaves at this point was an Emergency Broadcast message. It said to head in to Atlanta. Atlanta? This was fucking Florida for God's sake. Why the hell would I go to Atlanta? To me, it just didn't make sense. I didn't turn the radio off, but I managed to make myself sit back in the seat, my hands down in my lap as I stared out the windows.

I heard it before I saw it. I looked in the rearview mirror and saw an old ford pick-up jacked up on giant wheels coming up behind me. The driver was flashing their lights at me. I didn't know if I should move to get out of their way or stay. Maybe they needed my help or something. I chewed my lip wondering if I'd actually give my help if they asked. The nurse in me said I'd do whatever they needed, the other part of me, that empty shell I had suddenly become said Fuck No!

The truck stopped behind me and almost instantly, both doors opened and two guys jumped out and came around to my driver's side window. I didn't roll it down, but I watched them approach. One of the guys tapped on the window, signaling for me to roll it down. I shook my head no. Whatever my face must have looked like at this point, he didn't argue, he just spoke louder so I could hear him through the glass.

"You lookin' for someplace ta go?"

I didn't respond - I just stared at him.

He looked at his friend then back to me, shrugging. "If you do, just follow us."

For whatever reason it was, to this day couldn't tell you why, when they got back into their truck and pulled around in front of me, I put the truck into drive and followed them. We didn't drive far, just a few miles before turning off onto another dirt road with not street sign. I was so numb by this time that no warning signals went off in my head. Some part of me just latched onto the idea that these people weren't….whatever everyone else was. They were…alive? Whatever. I was so tired, I didn't care.

The building we pulled up at was nothing more than run-down farmhouse. It was old and I could see the dip in the roofline saying that the house could collapse if the wind blew hard enough. I also knew that by the looks of the house, it'd probably weathered its fair share of storms and survived just fine. I shut of the engine of the truck, and slowly, with much trepidation, opened the door and climbed out of the cab. I stood there, looking around. I didn't see anyone else other than the two guys in the truck. They came over to me, their hands in their pockets or looped through their belt loops. Their mannerisms struck me as they were just as nervous and unsure as I was. We didn't introduce ourselves, but they invited me into the house for a break. As numb as I was, I just assumed that they were taking pity on a woman that was obviously scared and distraught. I followed them towards the house. I kept looking around, hoping to see someone else, another woman or something. My heart started beating faster; thudding in my chest to the point I thought it was going to break my ribs. I stepped up onto the porch behind them and walked inside. I don't know why, but I was relieved when nothing happened to me when I stepped across the threshold. Some part of me thought that since I had made it inside, everything was going to be fine.

The guy that had tapped on my window turned to me and asked if I was hungry.

"No, but I could definitely use a drink."

He nodded to his friend and turned and walked into what I assumed was the kitchen. I was left there with the friend, in a living room that was obviously the handiwork of an older generation. The pictures on the walls were all faded black-and-whites of a family, none of which looked like either guy here now. I looked at the friend, taking in his attire. Dirty, holey jeans, a white tee shirt that wasn't quite white anymore, brown work boots that I could tell were steel-toes, and a trucker's hat saying Save a Horse Ride a Cowboy. The absurdity of the hat in that particular moment made me laugh. I guess it was the wrong thing to do because the look on his face said he would love to throw me against the wall and knock me out.

I swallowed down my laughter and asked him what his name was. He just stared at me. I jumped when Window-Knocker held a glass of what looked like water in front of my face. He let out a brief snort, amused by my reaction. I held up shaking hands and took the glass from him, downing it in just a few gulps. When I had finished, he took the glass back and set it on the coffee table. Something wasn't right about the water; it had left a nasty taste in my mouth. At the time I chalked it up to being well-water or something to that effect. Window-Knocker invited me to sit on the couch, saying that I looked like I could keel over at any moment. Knowing he was right, I sat on the far end, away from both men. His friend just stood in the corner, watching me. I was beginning to get uncomfortable and was about to stand up and thank them for their trouble and head out of their house. I was beginning to, anyway. Before I really knew what was happening, my vision started blurring and it felt like my tongue was ten sizes too large for my mouth. I tried to look from one guy to the other, but couldn't quite figure out why they each had smiles on their faces. Eerie smiles.

Slowly, my world went sideways. I must have fallen over on the couch. I remember the musty smell of the couch cushions and that both men seemed to move closer to me although I couldn't be sure.

Everything went black.


	10. Chapter 10

I woke up sometime later in a dark room. I don't know how much time had gone by since I was sitting on the couch. I couldn't see anything. I couldn't move. I tried to bring my hand to my face to rub the sleepiness away, only to find that my hand was tied up. I stretched my fingers out, touching some sort of pole or post. I stretched out the fingers on my other hand, feeling the same thing. I looked up, only then realizing I must be on a bed. I was so out of it that I couldn't even tell I was lying down? What the hell had happened to me? I tried to move my legs, but felt the strain on each ankle telling me I was completely tied up. My heart started hammering in my chest again, making me lightheaded.

I don't know how long I lay there, struggling feebly against my restraints, but after a while, the guys showed up. They flipped the switch, turning on an overhead light. They both wore smug smiles on their faces and I could smell the reek of alcohol emanating from them. It was so strong, I wanted to gag. Window-Knocker came over and knelt on the bed, looking down at me. He didn't say anything as he took a handkerchief from his back pocket and wiped the sweat from his brow.

"What – What are you doing?" I managed to stammer out.

He grimaced at the sound of my voice, taking the handkerchief and tying it around my head, gagging me with it. He turned to look at his friend, beckoning him over with a nod of his head. I looked from one to the other, pulling on my restraints harder. The first time I'd felt scared since Tyler had come at me, and I was completely helpless here. I should have been crying, I knew, but instead, I was just watching them. The friend handed Window-Knocker a knife. My mouth went dry; I just knew they were about to kill me. Instead, to my relief, all he did was cut my clothes off.

He started at my collar, holding the material taught as he ran the blade down, flaying open my shirt. He slipped the blade between my breasts and with a simple flick of his blade, my bra fell open exposing me. He paused in his ministrations, licking his lips while he cupped one breast in his hand. I must have let out a whimper because he raised his hand and backhanded me. I tasted blood in my throat as I held my head to the side so I couldn't see him. He moved down the bed, his blade making quick work of my jeans and panties. Friend came over and pulled the ruined clothes out from under me, jerking me to the side as he pulled them roughly.

Window-Knocker sat down by my feet, looking at me. I slowly turned my head to stare down at him. It didn't really feel like it was happening to me; it felt more like a horrible nightmare or a really bad movie. He was running his thumb and fingers along my leg, stopping at the back of my knee and moving back towards my ankle. If I could've flinch, I would have, but he was sitting on the rope in such a manner my leg couldn't move at all.

It was hotter than hell in this room but I was shivering.

Friend came over and sat on the opposite side of the bed. He was staring at me, his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth.

The handkerchief in my mouth was leaving a horrid taste in my throat, mixed with my blood as I lay there. My mind had shut down by this time, I was just watching, like a spectator.

Window-Knocker must have been the one in charge here because he made the first move. He scooted closer to my waist, reaching for my breasts. He seemed to enjoy that he could pinch my nipples hard enough to turn them purple and make me grunt in pain. I saw Friend, behind him. He was massaging my calf in time with his hand on his crotch. I shook my head in disgust, turning my attention to the ceiling. That obviously wasn't in their plans because Window-Knocker backhanded me again and screamed that I needed to watch what they did, that I was being schooled on how to survive with them. I nodded my head slightly and he seemed to take that as acceptance.

Window-Knocker stood up, unzipped his jeans and let them fall to the floor. He wasn't wearing any boxers or underwear of any kind and his cock was already standing at attention. "How the hell could this turn anyone on?" was my only thought. He climbed onto the bed, positioning himself between my legs. He leaned down, one hand on the bed beside my chest. He was looking down at his cock, his hand stroking himself, as his eyes roamed over my body in its prone position. I could tell the moment he decided to move. I ground my teeth together through the handkerchief as I felt him shove his way inside me. He brought up his other hand so that I was surrounded by him. He looked down at me, a smile of self-satisfaction across his face. I never wanted to kill someone as badly in my life as I did right then and there, but I was helpless. He kept thrusting, my body reacting of its own accord. The fact that I was getting wet and my hips jerked in response to him made him move even faster. He dipped his head to my shoulder; he must have been hell-bent on getting off because within just a few minutes he spilled his seed inside me and rolled off of me. I couldn't even cry – I was raging on the inside.

I could imagine myself taking the bed post and ramming it up his ass and out his throat, laughing while I did it. I was so intent on this mental image, I didn't even see Friend assume the position atop me until it was too late. I grunted out in pain as he rammed himself inside me and bit down on my breast in one motion. He lasted longer than Window-Knocker and by the time he was finished, I had blood all over my breasts from his bites. Window-Knocker was off to the side, watching. I could tell that the site of my blood made him happy, very happy. He was hard again. He pulled off his shirt as he came back to the bed.

It was like this for….I don't even know how long. They took breaks every now and then, but usually just long enough to go smoke or get something to eat. By the time either one of them thought to bring me something to drink and eat, I could tell I had been severely weakened. It had to have been days that I was tied down like that, abused and starved. They untied me to let me sit up and eat. They actually had to feed me like I was a baby. My mind argued that this was more embarrassing than being used like a sex doll. They propped me against the headboard while they stepped out of the room. If I'd had the strength I would have tried to run, but the muscles in my legs were too weak. I couldn't move them at all at this point. Eventually, they came back in. The smirks on their faces told me something was up. The walked to the bed, telling me they wanted to do something new. Turns out, that meant they were going to tie me up in a different position. They piled pillows in the middle of the bed, tying me up face-down so my ass was in the air. They were at least kind enough to ensure that I wouldn't suffocate, by getting a smaller pillow for my head. Then it all started again.

I would squeeze my eyes shut – and get hit for it. They wanted me watching. They wanted me moaning like I enjoyed what they were doing to me. After a while, I did. Then something truly horrible happened. I started my period. Neither one of them wanted to touch me.

They didn't even leave the room when they discussed how to work around the problem. Cauterization, like a wound was the best course of action they could think of. I wanted to laugh. I would have laughed, except they were serious. Friend came back in with a metal shaft. I don't know what it was from, but they both agreed it was a good choice. They left the room at this point, only to come back some time later, the metal shaft in Window-Knocker's gloved hand. The end of the metal shaft was red with heat. Panic set in, I couldn't move but I fought against the ropes, feeling them digging in and rubbing away the skin of my wrists and ankles. I screamed from behind the gag as Friend held me down and Window-Knocker shoved the red-hot shaft inside me.

The heat and pain was entirely too much for me and I passed out almost instantly.


	11. Chapter 11

I don't know how long I was out. When I woke up, the pain was excruciating. I didn't want to move, but I also couldn't stay still. No matter what I did, the pain simply wouldn't go away. I was still on the bed, my ass still in the air. I turned my head around and saw that my wrists and ankles were still bound to the bed's posts. My thighs and calves were cramping from being stuck in this position. God, I'd give anything to be able to walk around. I moved the tiniest bit and a sharp pain splintered through my gut. Nope, I think I'll stay right where I am and do whatever I can to not move a single bit.

Window-Knocker and Friend came into the room. I heard there voices, my head turned away from the door. It was stupid, I know, but I wanted to look out the window. Or, rather, the light that came in around the horribly dark blinds that were closed over the window. It was better than looking at this fucking room that was slowly getting dirtier and dirtier. I could see on the bed posts, especially, that the dust was collecting. Obviously, men wouldn't have the audacity to keep their victim's surroundings clean, now would they?

They each sat down on the bed, the mattress sinking under the weight. I couldn't help but cry out as the shift made my body move and the fire in my gut ignited anew. Knowing I should just go with it, I used this opportunity to turn my head and face them, feeling the sweat break out over my body with the pain. It was only then that I realized I wasn't gagged anymore. The downside to not being gagged? I didn't have anything to bite into to help with the pain. All I could do was grind my teeth together.

I must have passed out, or nearly passed out. The next thing I knew, Window-Knocker was caressing my ass. It made me move, the muscles in my thighs and stomach working, and I screamed out. Friend whacked me good over the head to silence me and I was out again.

I awoke…again…again not knowing how long I was out. I could feel something cool running down my thighs. I didn't know if it was blood or…something else. I hoped it was blood. I didn't want to fathom anything else at this point. It was quiet. I couldn't hear anything coming from the rest of the house. Not that it didn't surprise me, but it was one of those eerie quiets that you'd expect to hear in a scary movie. That thought made me laugh inside. A scary movie would be preferable to this. I tried to move my feet, but they were secured fairly well. Taking a deep breath, prepared for the burning pain in my gut, I turned my attention to my wrists. Looking up at them, they seemed to have a bit more play in the rope than my ankles. I tugged them, feeling the rope bite into my skin. The skin on my wrists was getting raw and starting to break down, and I could tell it would start bleeding soon.

My mind was working overtime, trying to contemplate what was going to happen. I thought back to Tyler and Jake. I thought back to Robin, her face the last time I saw her. That day, I never could have seen myself in this position – this predicament.

I bent my fingers down, trying to reach the knots. They were just out of reach. Bracing myself for the pain, I stretched forward, trying to bring my teeth to the knots. Groaning in pain, I was able to do it. I used my teeth to loosen the knot. Why hadn't I thought of this before? What the hell was my problem? I wasn't the type of woman to tolerate this sort of abuse. The rope fell away from my wrist and I started working on the other wrist. The pain in my gut was a constant, but I forced it down, making it become a background nuisance like a mosquito. Both knots gone, my wrists free, I massaged my hands together, working the blood flow back into them. The pins-and-needles feeling seemed to last forever, but I knew if I didn't wait for it to dissipate, my fingers would be useless trying to free my ankles. I looked around for something to wear, so that when my ankles were free, I'd have a plan. Things to aim for. Something in the back of my mind told me these small goals were important, otherwise I might falter and collapse.

I made myself sit up on my haunches, my back and gut protesting the sudden movement. Tears streamed down my cheeks unbeknownst to me. Breathing heavily, through the pain, I twisted myself around, reaching for the rope that was knotted around my ankles. These knots weren't tied so well, coming undone much more easily. Why would the men think I'd ever be untying them?

My ankles and wrists free, I worked my way to the edge of the bed. Gingerly, I sat down, the sense of a giant burning hot rock sitting in my gut and between my thighs was going to kill me, I just knew it. I took a deep breath; my eyes glued to the sheet that was draped over what appeared to be a chair, and pushed myself to my feet. I immediately collapsed to the floor, grunting in pain. I knew I couldn't have much time left by myself so I forced myself to crawl towards the sheet. Reaching it, I pulled it off the chair and draped it around my body, tucking the end in so it wouldn't fall off when and if I could stand up. The door to the room was ajar, I guess they liked to be able to walk past and look at me. I crawled out of the room, and down the hallway towards what I could remember should be the living room. The pain in my gut flared with the movement but the tears dried on my face. I got to a bookshelf in the hallway, using it to climb my way back to a standing position.

I was winded, sweating, and I just generally felt like shit by the time I was standing up. I stood there, looking down the hallway. It was either dawn or dusk by the light I could see from the windows. Keeping my hand on the wall, I tried to hurry as much as I could towards the door, knowing I just needed to get out of this house. This Hell. It took forever. I could feel the time ticking away in my head. I knew, I just /knew/ the men were standing on the other side of that door and all of this pain, this self-torture was for naught. I didn't care. I had to do something. I fought my way towards the door, stumbling from one piece of furniture to the other. My legs were weak and the added pain from their lovely use of a red-hot piece of metal in my body was about to kill me. Grabbing hold of the door knob, I turned it, and the door swung open. I don't know if the fact that there was no one there or the fact that my freedom was so close hit me harder. Either way, I tried my best to run from the house, down the porch and towards where my mind told me my truck should be.

The sheet came undone and I tripped down the one step of the porch. I crashed down to the ground, the dirt and gravel digging into my hands, arms and chest. It hurt something terrible, but it dulled when I saw that my truck wasn't there. That pain, the pain of not knowing what I was going to do now, hurt more. I didn't cry. I lay my cheek down on the ground, trying to gather my wits about me. I wanted to slap myself. If I was me and me was some girl lying prone on the ground, I'd slap her, kick her, and call her a bitch. As it was, I started laughing. It must have sounded like a maniacal laugh, but it was a laugh nonetheless.

I got to my feet, the sheet in my hands. I rewrapped it around myself, tucking the end in again. I slapped it against my side, somehow thinking that it would make it stay better. I looked around trying to decide which way to go.

Voices.

Male voices.

Their voices.

Fuck.

I ran for the trees. I don't know how I did it. My instinct for survival must have overridden the pain. I ran like my life depended on it. I don't know if I made any noise or not, I just ran. The trees whipped past me, low-hanging branches caught my hair, the sheet, and scratched at my arms. I kept going. The voices seemed to grow louder in my head, but I knew they were behind me. I looked back once, but didn't see them. It didn't matter, I kept running. My legs were like spaghetti beneath me, but I kept going. My lungs burned, my lips cracked, my feet were killing me.

I couldn't stop.

I couldn't.


	12. Chapter 12

I found a dirt road. Still wrapped in the filthy sheet, my feet sore and bleeding, I followed it. I had no idea which way to go, but left seemed good to me. It was unusually quiet for this time of year, there weren't even any bugs buzzing away. It was like everything knew the world was over. In more ways than one, I knew the world was over. I wasn't innocent anymore. I had killed people; I'd had terrible things done to me. The longer I walked, the more I thought about all the shit that had happened. I wanted to scream, but deep down, I knew that if I did, I'd alert…someone, whether it be Window-Knocker and Friend, or those things. What were they? Dead? Alive? Somewhere in between? This, I couldn't quite understand yet. It was like every scary movie I'd watched as a kid had somehow come to life. So far, the only thing I really knew was that I had to go for their heads in order to stop them, they stunk really badly now, and…well, that was pretty much it. I had no idea how long I'd been tied up in that god-forsaken bed. Was it days? Weeks? The sudden weight of my thoughts brought me down to my knees in the middle of the road.

I sat on my knees there, staring off into space. My eyes weren't focused on anything, except the images. My family, Tyler and Jake, all those "things" that I'd killed since this craziness had started. I managed to squash any feelings I had left and forced myself back to my feet. My only thought at the moment was finding some clothes and shoes. I decided the best course of action was to stay on the road. I'd either come across a car or maybe another house that I could search through. I just knew I had to be cautious in case those two assholes came upon me in their truck. Thinking about it, I was kind of surprised that they hadn't already. I would have expected them to be on me – their toy having escaped and all. Not that I was really upset about still being free or anything.

I'd walked for most of the day, the sun was beginning its slow decent into the west. It had stayed relatively quiet for most of the way, occasionally the bugs would start their buzzing. I was thirstier than I had ever remembered being, hungrier than Hell, too. I tried to ignore this, but the hunger pangs were beginning to make me nauseous, and I was having problems walking in a straight line. Nervous, I decided to go into the woods a little ways and look for some berries or leaves or something to eat. At this point, I really didn't care. Anything in my stomach seemed like a better idea than nothing at all. I checked to make sure the sheet was still wrapped tight around me as I moved into the tall grass and then the trees. The first thing I noticed was the surprising lack of a produce section waiting for me. I didn't see anything that I immediately recognized as edible. No pineapples, oranges, hell, not even peaches were to be found anywhere that I could see. This was Georgia, right? Where the hell were all the peaches?

I did, however, find a ton of dandelions. I looked at the leaves, growing nice and green. I thought about salads I'd heard that people made using dandelion leaves. I shrugged and started picking them. I stuffed my mouth and started chewing. They were absolutely disgusting, but I forced myself to swallow and move on. I ate what I could, before the overwhelming need to vomit took over. I leaned back against a tree, willing my stomach to calm down. Luckily, the leaves had been plush enough that my thirst had slacked to the point where it was almost tolerable. Breathing deeply and slowly, I pushed away from the tree, determined to get back to the road and keep going. I stopped dead in my tracks, though.

I heard it.

The sound of a truck door slamming shut, someone crashing through the leaves and undergrowth. Then a second door slammed shut and my heart jumped into my throat.

I could hear their voices before I saw them. They were talking about me. They had followed the bloody footprints and tracks on the road. They were convinced, and rightly so, that they would get me back with minimal trouble. Fuck that shit. I turned and high-tailed it deeper into the woods. I paid no heed to my feet or the fact that I was leaving an obvious trail for them to follow. I just ran. It wasn't easy on my stomach, I just wanted to stop, throw up, and curl into a ball and die. I'd be damned if they'd catch me like that, though. I decided right then and there that those two fuckers had had enough of my time and body. I don't know how far ahead of them I got, but I never heard them running behind me. I didn't stop until I hit a tiny clearing and came across one of those "things" stumbling around.

It obviously heard me. It turned to face me, its arms reaching out to me. I froze in place, weaponless, essentially naked. I had nothing to fight with. At least last time, I had a shotgun to blow them away with. It started coming at me as I backed up, looking all around for something that I could use for a weapon. There wasn't anything available, not even a big branch on the ground. There were some rocks, but they were behind the "thing" and not close enough for me to get to.

"Crap!"

Why didn't things ever work out for me? The sound of my voice seemed to make the "thing" move even quicker towards me. I was out of options, either back up and run towards the two dick wads that were tracking me, or try to fight this "thing" off and keep going. I must have hesitated too long, not paying attention, because before I knew it, the "thing" was practically on top of me. I dodged its grasp, ducking and rolling behind it. My shoulder hit a rock, and I grunted out in pain. The "thing" turned towards me, but somehow, the top half and bottom half didn't agree. Right in front of me, the upper torso ripped away, and the fell to the ground, the legs falling in the opposite direction. I stared in disbelief as it started using its hands and arms to claw its way towards where I was laying on the ground. I scrambled backwards, my hand landing on the rock that had just hit my shoulder. I used my fingers and nails to rip it from the ground. It was bigger than what I'd thought and it took both of my hands to pick up. I got to my feet, finding humor in the situation. It was easier than I thought it would be. I walked around the moving half-body, and from behind, I brought the large rock crashing down on its head, a maniacal laugh tearing its way out of my throat. Almost immediately, it stopped moving and I was left with silence.

I stood back up, looking down at the sheet over my body. It was filthy, and now covered in the nastiness that sprayed out of the "thing's" head. That sight made me sicker than the sour, bitter dandelion leaves…until I heard the screams, and heard the incessant moaning and groaning of more of those things. Somehow, I just knew what it was. A group of them had found Window-Knocker and Friend. Part of me realized I didn't have to worry about those two anymore. The other part now knew that I had a much larger problem on my hands. I was still unarmed and there were obviously more of those things out there, and they were closer than I thought. The only thing I knew to do was keep walking into the woods, away from the sounds they were making. I hoped the group of things would move on, hopefully towards the road. I also knew that was asking for a lot. I still needed clothes and shoes. I focused on that, and forced myself to move forward, keep walking.

It started to grow dark in the woods. The sun was beginning to set and I was beginning to get worried. I needed to find someplace to crash for the night. I'd been lucky and not run into anymore of those things, but I knew that I couldn't count on that luck to hold out while I slept…if I slept. I was stopping more frequently to rest as I went; the dandelion leaves and other leaves I was eating weren't sustaining me for very long. The thirst had come back with a vengeance, and I could feel my lips cracking every time I moved them. I knew my luck was running out when I could smell it. It was the most delicious smell I'd ever come across. If it were possible, my mouth would have been watering.

I walked out of the trees and into an large clearing, a homestead as it were. There was a house a few hundred yards away and a fire was roaring on the lawn. I stared at it, not quite believing what I was seeing. I looked around for someone, but no one was there. The thought occurred to me that I might be dead and this was where I'd spend the rest of eternity. My legs started moving, carrying me towards the fire. I was only a few feet away from its warmth when she came out of the house and saw me.

I don't know if she wanted to scream or if she wasn't sure I was real. Either way, she shouted for someone else to come out. They both came running towards me as the world faded and I crashed to the ground. I don't remember hearing voices, or feeling anything as I fell. It was finally peaceful. And I wasn't tied up.

That was nice.


	13. Chapter 13

I woke up in a warm bed, instinctively reaching for my alarm clock. Opening my eyes, I stared at the nightstand; the alarm clock sitting there wasn't the one I was used to. I thought it was a dream at first, one of those strange dreams where you think you've woken up in the wrong bed. I rolled back over, running my fingers through my hair. Yawning, I threw the blankets off of me, and tried to sit up only to have my stomach lurch and cramp in extraordinary pain. I groaned so loudly, I was sure the neighbors must have heard me. Trying to breathe through the pain, I could hear footsteps running on wood floors in my direction. That was wrong. Why was anyone here? Who was here? I was so confused. Maybe I was still dreaming, but the pain told me I couldn't be.

I lay still, the pain seemed to be spreading throughout my body and I started shivering. I opened my eyes when I felt someone sit on the bed next to me. I was suddenly so scared, an image of Window-Knocker flashed before my eyes, but instead it was a woman. She had a look of pity in her eyes which I normally would've been pissed about, but right then, I needed it. She had a bowl of water in one hand and a cloth in the other, wiping at my forehead, cheeks, even down my arms. The damp cloth on my skin felt like ice and I knew.

I had a fever.

"Don't you worry, Miss," she reassured me, rinsing and wringing out the cloth before bringing it back to my forehead.

My teeth were chattering too hard for me to be able to speak. The only thought that occurred to me was that if I had a fever, I was going to die soon. Then come back. I wanted to warn her, tell her she needed to shoot me or stab me in the head. Get rid of me.

My eyelids got heavier, the longer she bathed my forehead with the cool water. The lights grew too bright for me, and the sounds were coming and going. I couldn't make sense of anything, other than that the woman was in danger. If only I could warn her….

It was dark when I woke up again. It was quiet, except for the sounds of the house settling. I didn't know exactly where I was, but I knew it wasn't home. The smells weren't right. This place had the smell of dirt and mold, like it hadn't been lived in for some time. I tried to sit up, the pain in my stomach making it a long, torturous process. I did it, though, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. I sat there a few minutes, my thumb and forefinger pressed to the sides of my nose waiting for the nausea to settle down. When I thought it was finally safe to move without vomiting all over the floor, I pushed myself up, only to fall back on the bed when my legs gave out. The bed creaked loudly and I heard footsteps come running.

The woman from my dream and a man I didn't recognize were by my side, helping me sit up. They didn't speak at first, but the looks they exchanged between one another spoke volumes. They obviously didn't trust me and were worried I was trying to get into something.

The man was the first to speak this time. I could tell he was trying to be polite.

"You shouldn't be up, Miss."

I shook my head, "I can't stay here. It's not safe."

The woman looked at me; I could tell she was concerned at the way I was.

"Miss, it's not that kind of fever. You got a bad infection."

She blushed profusely, looking at the man. He must've understood the look because he stood up and walked out of the room, pulling the door closed behind him. She stood up, walking to a chair in the corner where some clothes were folded neatly in a stack. She rifled through them, pulling out a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, some panties and a bra, and brought them over to me.

"I don't think these'll be the best fit, but they're better than you bein' naked."

I took the clothes from her, my arms shaking with the effort to raise them. I nodded up at her, setting the clothes beside me on the bed. I was so hot from the fever that I hadn't even realized I was naked. It felt like I had pajamas on. I gingerly pulled the panties on, my stomach protesting the action. I fought through it without getting sick, and pulled on the pair of jeans while I could. The woman stood back while I finished getting dressed, occasionally chewing on her nails like she was debating whether or not to tell me something. Between the fever and the pain, I had not patience for the game and snapped at her.

"If you got somethin' ta say, spit it out."

She almost jumped, but nodded.

"The infection. It's inside you," she pointed at my stomach.

Great, just what I needed, but it was no big surprise. I sat on the bed, my hand over my stomach. It was hard, distended. I pressed gently, groaning at the intrusion. It was bad, very bad. From the corner of my eye, I caught sight of the medicine bottles that were on the floor next to the bed. Without a word, she came closer and knelt down, picking them up and handed them to me. I nodded my thanks, the pain making it difficult to speak. They were assorted antibiotics, the name on the label damn near illegible. Amoxicillin and Keflex, the bottles were still relatively full. Lucky me, this infection might not kill me. I didn't count on it, though.

"This infection could still kill me."

She looked up at me, her eyes wide with fear. I couldn't judge her. She seemed to be my age, but something about her made her feel like a child to me. Maybe it was her nerves and the fact she was confronted with a stranger on Death's doorstep, or it could be the dead were walking around like it was Mardi Gras. She got up, and walked to the door, opening it. I was thankful she did because the room had grown quite stuffy and the air was stale. She walked out without looking back, leaving me there.

I sat there for a few minutes, trying to decide what to do. Before I had come to a decision, the man came back in the room carrying a jacket, a small bag that was obviously loaded with something, and a machete. He shoved them at me, taking the bottles of antibiotics and putting them in the bag.

"You can't stay with us. We fed ya, got ya cleaned up. That's as much as we're willin' ta do. This here'll getcha as far as it can. Ya need ta be gettin' on, ma'am."

I looked up at him, holding the stuff he'd brought me. I let out a breath, nodding slowly. I wasn't completely surprised by this, but a part of me had been hoping they'd let me stay a little bit longer. He helped me up, pointing to a pair of shoes on the floor at the foot of the bed.

"We found this stuff around the place. Should keep ya goin'."

He left the room without looking back. I could hear their hushed voices in the next room as I stepped into the shoes. The thought that occurred to me, crazy as it may seem, was that I'd need to see if I could slip some socks out with me. I walked over to the dresser, pulling open the top drawer. Luckily, socks were balled up in the corner of it, and I grabbed a few pairs, shoving them in the bag I'd been given. Quietly closing the drawer, I turned to the door and left the room. The man and woman were standing by what I could only assume was the front door, waiting for me. They quieted as soon as they saw me and the man pulled the door open for me.

It was such an odd feeling, walking out of that house. The man closed the door as soon as I was over the threshold. I stood on the tiny porch a moment, tucking the bag and machete between my knees as I shrugged into the jacket. I grabbed the machete, slipping my arm and head through the strap of the bag so I could carry it across my body. I looked down at the machete in my hand, holding it up to look at the blade in the dying light of day. The blade was old, but the edge looked like it was freshly sharpened. I caught myself wondering who it belonged to as I stepped off the porch, slipping the blade through the strap of the bag so that my hands were free.

I walked slowly, each step a painful reminder of what had been done to me. I ground my teeth together in order to keep from groaning in pain. I had no idea which direction to go, and I found myself hating the couple that had just kicked me out. Without really know why, I headed in the direction of the setting sun, squaring my shoulders as I went. Whatever happened, I'd face it. I had the antibiotics in the bag. I'd noticed some protein bars in the bag when I put the socks in there, too. I only needed to find water. All in all, I reasoned things weren't too bad off.

With this in mind, I walked towards the woods. The setting sun was my guide, and my mission was to find water.


	14. Chapter 14

I heard the rushing of water long before I saw it. I was getting dizzy from the pain, but I refused to stop moving. I could hear steps in the woods behind me, all around me, as I walked. A few times, I caught sight of something following me, but when I turned to get a good look, it was gone. The steps of whatever or whoever it was were heavy when I heard them, setting the tiny hairs on the back of my neck to standing. Was it one of the dead coming after me? Part of me doubted it. I would've heard the sounds of their groans, smelled the rotting flesh, or already be dead. An animal of some sort, I kept thinking to myself.

Following the sounds of the water, I emerged from dense bushes onto the banks of a large creek. The water was low, a rapids of sorts was crashing and churning around glistening dark grey rocks. The water looked clean and fresh. I knelt by the water's edge, mindful of what might be behind me, and pulled the canteen from the bag the mysterious couple had given me. Twisting the cap off, my hands shaking from weakness, I held it beneath the water, watching the bubbles of air gurgling up out of the opening as water rushed in to replace it. The bubbles stopped and I lifted the canteen out of the water, twisting the cap back into place before tucking the canteen into the outer pocket of the bag. I didn't want anything inside the bag getting wet, not knowing when I'd have the chance to clean anything again.

I looked behind me, checking my surroundings for the mysterious follower. Satisfying myself that I was alone for the moment, I cupped my hands together and began to drink my fill of water from the creek. Water dripping from my hands, running down my forearms to drip from my elbows, I was lost in the need for water. It took a few minutes, feeling my nose and my lips begin to go numb with how cold the water was. It was absolutely delicious, sweet even, as I drank my fill. It was then that I noticed it. The mysterious follower sitting on the bank of the creek just on the other side of a small bush, its gold-green eyes watching me, a black panther was licking its chops, water dripping from its chin. I swallowed hard, not sure if I should stay still or take off running. I came to the quick conclusion that with as close as I was to the panther, that if I tried to move to run, it'd pounce on me. Instead, I knelt there, staring back at the animal, wiping the few remaining drips of water off my nose and my own chin.

It felt like I was frozen in place with this giant cat staring me down. The few gnats hovering over me moved in slow motion, the slight breeze cool on my sun-warmed skin, and the sounds of the woods fading to the background. Suddenly, the spell was broken, the panther going to full alert before disappearing into the woods once again. I grabbed the machete, pulling it free from the strap of the bag, expecting to see one of the rotten dead coming out at me. Instead, it was a girl. She crashed through the brush on the opposite side of the creek, landing on her hands and knees in the mud. Her dark hair had slipped over her shoulders, shielding her face from my view, but her clothes were torn, the back pack she was wearing covered in the tell-tale dark streaks of blood, and she was obviously running away from something.

Climbing to my feet, the machete held in one hand, I walked closer to her, standing across from her on my side of the creek.

"Where'd you come from? What are you runnin' from?"

My voice was scratchy from disuse. When the girl looked up at me, I saw the fear in her eyes.

"Them."

It was all she said before I could hear the moans in the distance. I could feel my eyes widen at the sound, the urge to flee the area foremost in my mind. I looked back down at her, reaching out with my free hand to motion for her to come across the creek.

"Come on, get over here! We gotta run!"

I waved her over; impatient with how long it seemed to take her to get to her feet. She stepped into the water, and hopped over the deepest part, coming up on the bank beside me. I saw the bat hanging from a loop on her backpack.

"That ain't gonna help you if you don't have it in your hands."

I turned and started heading along the creek's bank, looking back over my shoulder as the girl followed, gripping her bat in obviously shaking hands. The zombies came out of the trees, stopping at the water's edge and turning to look at us as we took off. I saw them turn to start following just as the girl and I disappeared around a bend of the creek and into an open meadow.

The meadow should have seemed safe, but I had grown weary of large open areas. There was no cover or place to hide if something or someone came along. The girl must have had the same idea as me because we both took off at a full run, not bothering to stop or look back until we were well within the opposite tree line, lost in the shadows of the dense canopy. I came to a stop, bent over with my hands resting on my knees, trying to catch my breath. Breathing heavy, a cold sweat having broken out over my skin during our supposed escape, I looked up at the girl. She was pale, still shaking, and she was leaning against a tree. If I knew anything, I knew she was on the verge of fainting. I stood up, slipping my machete back through the strap of my bag and walked to her side. I kept my hands up to show her I was unarmed, watching her eyes widen in pure terror before slowly going back to normal. Her grip on her bat was so tight, her knuckles stood out a stark white against the wood of the bat.

"What's your name?"

I needed to find some way to distract her, hopefully get her to calm down. I looked around, not seeing anything dangerous in our vicinity, and kept talking to her.

"Mine's Caryn. You alone? Got anyone that'll be lookin' for you?"

She looked like she was about to speak, but her throat wouldn't work. I pointed to my side, where the canteen was sticking out of the side-pocket of my bag. I turned so she could see my hands as I grabbed the canteen and held it out to her. She wouldn't take it at first, so I twisted the cap off and held it up to her lips. Before the water came out to run down her lips, she took the canteen in a hand and started drinking. She handed me back the canteen, wiping her face dry with the back of her hand. I took the canteen and tucked it away once again, repeating my questions.

"Em. And…no, I'm alone. I got separated from my camp a few days ago."

I frowned at her, not knowing if I should buy the story or not. Deciding I didn't really have a choice, and not wanting to leave her alone, I motioned for her to follow me. She nodded slightly; I could tell she was still terrified.

"Come on. We should find a place to make a camp or somethin'. Don't wanna be caught out in the dark. Those fuckers like to sneak up on you."

She nodded, her eyes practically bulging out of her head at the thought. Maybe that's how she got separated…but I didn't press for more information. Part of me didn't want to get too close to her; the other part of me just didn't want to know. We walked in silence, me looking for someplace to camp, her, it seemed, locked in her mind, reliving some sort of waking-nightmare.

After maybe an hour or so, the light fading quickly beneath the trees, I spotted a downed tree. The root-system was exposed, creating a massive hole in the ground that could be easily defended from one side. I looked at her over my shoulder and motioned with my head towards the spot.

"I think that's gonna be home. For the night at least. If we don't get settled now, it's gonna be too dark to keep going."

Em simply nodded. I had hoped she'd actually heard and understood me. We walked towards the hole in the ground and I let her go in first. She curled up in a ball in the deepest recess of the make-shift cavern. The trees roots hung around her head, but she seemed oblivious to them as she lay there. I followed behind her, taking up a spot near the opening. With the way she was acting, it seemed like I'd be keeping watch through the night. I was exhausted, but somehow found myself not wanting to let anything happen to this girl. There was something innocent about her. Even if she wasn't completely innocent, she seemed like the type of woman I might have been before Window-Knocker and his Friend had shattered my world.

Hours passed by slowly, everything becoming pitch-black as night crept over us. I could hear animals stirring, bugs going on about their business, and the occasional footsteps of a wandering zombie. For whatever reason, they never got too close to us. I was more than thankful for that, feeling my strength and warmth seeping out of me and into the cold ground. My eyes adjusted to the dark, seeing the shadows of things moving. I held my machete tight in my grip, twisting my palms around the hilt, reassuring myself that I would make it through the night.

When the sun finally started to rise, the dawn's grey light slowly flooding the woods and pouring slowly down into the hole around me, I could finally feel myself relaxing. I had been scared beyond words through most of the night. It was the first night I hadn't climbed a tree and slept up high on a branch. Being on the ground through the dark hours of the night had terrified me, but I would never let Em know. I turned to look at her, the light obviously stirring her to wakefulness.

"Morning, Em."

She opened her eyes and looked at me and I could see a soft smile on her face. Somehow, I felt like that was the first peaceful night she'd had in sometime, and it pained me to realize that.

"Good morning, Caryn."

So, there I was. I was with Em. Together, those five words seemed to cement our friendship. It was all it took. It was all we needed. Each other.

Caryn and Em.


	15. Chapter 15

I think it was weeks that Em and I had spent together, but it could've been months for all I knew. We wandered the woods of Georgia, finding places to sleep and to hide. I hunted the best I could, trying to make sure that we had enough food to eat. Water was a little trickier. When we were close to a creek, it wasn't a problem. But, we could never stay too close for too long. Those things seemed to walk along the banks, following us or getting ahead of us. No matter what I did, or we did, they were always there. We still hadn't been able to make it back to Em's camp, to retrieve her belongings. I felt terrible about it, but our safety, our lives had to come first.

Em and I had developed an uneasy sort of relationship. We argued like crazy and when she got upset, she turned into an absolute klutz. She tripped over air, walked into low-hanging branches, and even fell into the creek. Normally, I'd have laughed, but somewhere deep inside, I always knew it was my fault she got hurt. I'd bandage her up as best I could and we'd move on. I didn't like knowing or thinking that my stubborn ass was hurting this person.

At one point, we came across the remnants of a camp. Nothing more than a tent with a small fire pit dug in the earth by it, but it was better than nothing. Em wanted to keep going, but I was convinced that if the person or people didn't come back that the tent was free-reign. It would at least provide us some shelter when it rained.

We argued the point over and over. Just when I thought I had her convinced to stay and wait, she'd get antsy again and start complaining. The complaints would trigger another argument from me, and it would go on all over again. If I didn't know better, I'd say she should be my sister. I finally gave up and stopped responding and walked into the little camp. I could hear Em having a fit behind me, but I heard her steps as she hesitantly approached.

As I got closer, I noticed a line had been strung up between two trees on the other side of the tent. There were squirrels and a raccoon, gutted and cleaned, hanging from it. Curious, I approached the tent, pulling my machete from its loop on my bag. Using the tip of the blade, I pushed the tent flap open to see two sleeping bags, obviously used, spread out on its floor. I let the flap fall into place and walked around the tent, towards the line.

I looked back over my shoulder, expecting to see Em looking around. Instead, she stood by the fire pit, just staring down at it. I shook my head, sighing, and turned back to the game hanging before me. I didn't even think twice. I snatched the squirrels, leaving the raccoon, and shoved them in my bag. Food was food and I wasn't about to turn down a free meal. Turning around, closing the bag up, I walked over to Em and cleared my throat. She damn near jumped out of her skin as she turned to face me. More than aggravated that she hadn't even attempted to help me look around, I simply lifted my chin in acknowledgement and walked around her, heading back into the tree line.

Again, I heard her following along, and again, I heard her tripping and stumbling over roots and plants. How the hell did this girl survive on her own? I walked back towards the tree and bush we'd been hiding near. Dropping my bag down as I sat on the root that I swear was beginning to leave a bruise on my butt, I looked up and watched as Em started pacing back and forth in the tiny clearing. She kept hugging herself and watching the ground as she went. I opened my bag, pulling the first squirrel out and draped it over my knee. I used my machete to start skinning the creature.

"Em? Could you find some sticks? Short, straight as ya can?"

It was my attempt to keep her busy, to try and get her mind off of whatever was bothering her. She didn't answer or even acknowledge she heard me. After a minute or so, I opened my mouth to speak again. She nodded before the words came out and disappeared. Watching after her for a few seconds, my machete paused in its work, I shook my head. Something was bothering her. I needed to find out what it was before she got herself or me killed.

I went back to cleaning the squirrels, having all five of them draped over my leg, the muscle of their tiny bodies glistening in the light. My stomach growled, just thinking about the smell of the meat cooking. By the time Em finally showed back up, I had convinced myself she'd gotten lost. The only problem, when she showed up, she wasn't alone.

The man walking behind Em had a crossbow strung over his shoulder, his hair was filthy and sticking up, dirt coated his sweaty skin. His clothes looked like he'd washed them in mud, but his eyes? Those blue eyes were sharp, taking in everything, particularly the fact that we were only to females. Alone. My heart instantly jumped up into my throat at the possibility some other man thought he was going to use me or use Em for his benefit. My grip tightened on the hilt of my machete to the point that my knuckles actually hurt.

"Caught m'self a couple o' thieves here, huh?"

The lift of his chin, his eyes on me, I knew he was talking about the squirrels. Shit. I was caught red handed. Literally, since the blood of the squirrels still coated my palms. I didn't say anything at first, lifting my machete to sit it across my lap. I wanted him to know I was armed, that I wasn't defenseless.

Em stood silently off to his left, leaving nothing between me and the guy. Thanks, Em. I glared at her, turning my eyes back to him.

"What? Girl can't talk? I don't buy that fer a minute."

Apparently he'd actually expected an answer. Well, fuck that. I don't bow down to anyone. Not really, anyways. I stared at him a second longer, trying to think of what to say.

"What the hell makes you think these are yours?" Sensible question, I thought.

He narrowed his eyes at me, taking a half-step closer to me. "Fer the simple fact that I come back ta my camp 'n they wasn't there. Ain't like there's all that many people runnin' round these woods no more. Yer tracks were easy 'nough ta follow."

I stared straight back. What was I supposed to say to that? I chose not to. I picked up my machete and set it down on my bag, and looked over to Em, ignoring the jack ass for the moment.

"Em, did you get the sticks so I can get our food cooking?"

At first she didn't answer, but when I started to get up, setting the squirrels on the root where I'd been sitting, I heard her voice pipe in.

"Uh, yeah. I got a few before…" I looked up to see her point to the stranger.

"Good, then, get the squirrels set on them while I get the fire built up again."

The guy stood there at first, watching Em walk over and start to work with the squirrels. I felt his eyes on me as I bent down by the fire pit, adding some twigs and branches to it. Pulling the pack of matches from my pocket, I struck a flame and started to set different parts of the pile on fire. After a few minutes, the fire was going and Em was ready with the squirrels. When she brought them over, I set them up around the perimeter of the fire, tilted in so the heat was sure to hit them.

"Thanks fer makin' my dinner fer me."

I paused in my movements, tilting my head side to side as my neck popped with the sudden tension. Turning my head to look at him, I arched a brow up in challenge.

"You think you're going to join us? Think again, buddy."

He laughed. He actually laughed. Sad part was, I didn't mind the laugh. It actually seemed to roll over my skin and soothe me. Go figure. Before I could come back with a reply, Em jumped in.

"You're not eating unless we get a name. I'm Em. She's Caryn. Now. What's your name or you're not eating."

Wow, chick showed some backbone all of a sudden. I liked it. It beat the worried Em I'd gotten too much of lately.

"Daryl."


	16. Chapter 16

It was a quick meal with this Daryl Dixon and his brother Merle. I had zero trust in them, particularly the Merle one. He kept staring at me, making kissy-faces or winking when he caught me casting a glance in his direction. My stomach was in knots with the unease, the time at Window-Knocker and Friend's house still too fresh in my memory. Em seemed oblivious to it, but then again, she had her nose down to the ground simply trying to avoid any sort of notice from either man. An uneasy silence, I just wanted to finish eating and get gone. I could sense Em wanted the same, her moment of bravery long forgotten.

After a while, Merle stood and walked away, disclosing his need to take a piss. Daryl sat there, giving me sideways glances, almost looking like he was embarrassed by Merle's words. I looked over Daryl's shoulders into the dark where Merle had disappeared. Slowly bringing my attention back to Daryl, I stood up, tossing the bones of the squirrel I had been eating into the bushes.

"No offense, Daryl? But, uh, I think me 'n Em are gonna get gone while we can."

I could hear the breath Em let out, relief-filled and more than overdue by the look on her face. Daryl stood, acting like he was going to stop us, but I did not give him the chance. I grabbed Em's arm and we disappeared in the opposite direction from where Merle had gone. I looked back once, and saw Daryl staring after us. He looked like a lost puppy. Too bad I had no charitable bones left in my body. With Em by my side, we made our slow way deeper into the woods, the dark swallowing us on our journey to find somewhere safe to sleep.

Only once, Em piped up.

"Do you think we should go back? It could've—"

I cut her off. "Don't even go there. Two men? Alone? Hell no, it isn't safer."

With that, she and I descended into silence once again, finding a tree that seemed like a good spot for the night.

Weeks had passed. Em and I had finally made our way back to her original camp. Staking it out for a few days, we managed to retrieve most of her belongings that she wanted. With that done, we left, retracing our steps back in the direction we came from. Together, we had gotten pretty good at catching food. With traps and occasional actual hunting, we were not yet starving, which was nice. Our days were mostly quiet, avoiding the roaming dead, searching for food and water, or searching for safe places to rest our heads.

It had become an easy existence for the most part. Em never asked too many questions about me or my past and I avoided asking those sorts of questions of her. Most of our conversations centered on things of little consequence. I did eventually tell her I had been a nurse, which went a long way with her trusting me through each time I had to bandage her up. Em was nothing if not a klutz, but I adored that fact about her. It made me feel needed and gave me something to focus on. Each time she fell or stumbled, each time something happened to her and I could put my skills to good use, I felt a little more whole. I could never tell her, but after a while, I could tell she saw it. Still, Em never commented on it, which sat just fine with me.

Time went by in a never ending cycle of daylight and darkness. Slowly getting braver and more secure in my hunting abilities and tracking, in my survival self-training, I kept me and Em moving longer, closer to dark, until we were able to keep moving as long as we needed. No flashlights, everything at night depended on moonlight and clouds, even the tree canopy. I got some of my best hunting done right after the sun went down, when opossums and raccoons were more likely to be out, moving around. On one of these nights, following the sounds of something rutting around in the detritus of the woods, I caught the sight of firelight up ahead. Em hissed and whispered for us to stop and leave back the way we came, but curiosity got the better of me.

"Please, Caryn. Let's just go." Her voice was a plea, but I had always been too stubborn to listen.

"Oh, come one, Em. Maybe they're like those two guys were. They got food 'n they're willin' to share it with us."

I watched Em as she rolled her head around her shoulders, her own inner struggle with listening and following me or trusting her own gut instincts. In the end, she followed me. We walked slowly, keeping our steps as quiet as possible. The trees thinned out ahead and I could see more than one fire, even a house off in the distance. Both Em and I froze at the sight, still hidden in the trees. I looked at her and she looked at me, both of us not quite believing what we were seeing. Not only were there two fires, but there were people moving about, even someone sitting on top of an RV.

"Should we go?" It came out in a hushed whisper, looking at the first signs of civilization I had seen in who knew how long.

"I think we should leave." Em's own whispered voice, I could hear the tremble of fear from her.

"The hell you two doin' 'ere?"

It was that voice. What was his name? Daryl. I swallowed hard and slowly turned my head to see the tip of his crossbow pointed straight at me. His eyes shined from the reflected firelight and I could see him clenching and unclenching his teeth, the tick of his jaw moving in time with my own heartbeat.

"We were just leaving." It was the only thing I could think of to say.

I watched him raise his bow up, a loud sigh coming from him. Frustration? I had no idea. He shook his head at me, and I could see his eyes darting back and forth from me to Em to the fires beyond us.

"No ya ain't. Yer comin' with me."

With a slight lift of his chin, he pointed towards the fire and practically marched me and Em towards the camp we had just been admiring. With his crossbow in his hand, I did not really find room to argue. Instead, I put my bravest face on and went, hoping above hope that with how I acted, I could encourage Em to follow along. My plan was that as soon as no one was paying attention, she and I would make our escape back into the safety and darkness of the woods.

The going was slow, the tall grass hiding dips and rivets that both Em and I stumbled through. Making our way closer, we had to climb through a barbed wire fence before we could get any closer. The smell of horses hit me and I looked to my left to see a few standing around eating grass, their tails swishing in the night air. The voices of the people at the camp carried to me and I could hear men and women, even a child – a boy. If I could have cried, I probably would have. The myriad of emotions that hit me confused the hell out of me. I had very nearly come to the conclusion that I would never see this many people alive and more or less, thriving.

Daryl was still behind us, but as we crossed the dirt road, or maybe it was a driveway, he stepped between us and walked ahead. His long strides were difficult to keep up with, but by now, I had to see what else there was here.

"Yo, Rick."

That was all it took to have several people stand up and come jogging towards the edge of their camp, to the circle of vehicles that looked like a wagon circle in the dark. A few men and two women came towards Daryl, looking past him to see me and Em. I looked over at Em and pleaded silently with my eyes for her to stay by my side. An imperceptible nod from her was all it took for me to know she and I were on the same page.

I could hear Daryl explaining why he returned to the farm with two women. "Met 'em few weeks back with Merle, 'fore we was at the quarry. Think they been 'lone all this time, though. They ain't got no more with 'em now 'n they did when they lef' me 'n Merle then."

Hushed voices, whispers, but no one was looking at me or at Em like we were food, which seemed to be a big plus in my book. One of the men, the one I thought was this Rick that Daryl had called to finally nodded to Daryl and looked at me and Em again. I watched him slowly walk towards us, his head lowered, his eyes on the ground as if he were lost in thought. Just a few steps and he stood before me and Em and finally looked up at us. The moment his eyes met mine, I could feel him sizing me up and for whatever reason, I seemed to pass some inner test he had. A quick nod of his head and he held his hand out for a shake.

"Welcome to the farm, Miss. I'm Rick. Rick Grimes. I don't speak for the people up at the house, but I do for these folks out here." He looked back towards the circle of people that stood back there which included Daryl. "You're welcome to stay the night, get some food in your bellies. In the mornin' we'll figure out what to do from there. How's that?"

Yup, tears…almost. At least there should have been, anyway. Instead, all I could muster was a stuttered Thank You.

"This is the Greenes' Farm." Rick's voice broke through the fog that had suddenly come over me as I stood there. "Come on; let's get you two situated for the night."

A farm. The Greene Farm.

Interesting.


End file.
